It wasn’t Happy New Year I heard, it was “We need to admit you today for intravenous antibiotics”. The day was December 31 2023. The previous few days, since Christmas, for me, had been a series of tests, surprising new diagnoses like very low cortisol and then this. I had a bacteria in my blood that needed treated imminently with a broad spectrum IV antibiotic. The next few days identified the bug as rare and it took several days to find a suitable oral antibiotic ( and from there the journey home). I was isolated in a single ward due to RSV and the bleakness of the room itself led to me agitating each day to get home asap. It was Thursday evening when I got home. Christmas gifts abandoned, the decorations and cards adorning the house all reached out welcome arms and I sighed back into MY chair tearfully ready for home.
I know I’m able to get home but I’m very aware of the fragility of my health and situation now. Perhaps I’ve felt especially unwell without fully being aware of that in my quest for escape. Since my return home I find myself thinking of how it must feel to be trapped in hospital, unable to move on to a new home or to get home. The so-called bed blockers, depersonalised and powerless, who advocates for them? They are referred to with frustration as in the wrong place, using up NHS beds etc but rarely do we see it through their eyes. The loss of the familiar, loss of power, loss of a voice in the system, loss of their home, loss of living with family or pets….the list is endless and I find it almost overwhelming to explore. I suppose it’s too close to home. For the first time I felt less control over my situation and didn’t like it.
But I am home and even managed a short trip to the Botanics gardens, savouring the fresh air and companionship of friends. My head is shifting from an internal focus back to the external like focusing on raising awareness of my book. The shift feels good and I’m more in touch with people and perspectives beyond myself.
One podcast by the Newsagents very usefully explored the situation in Ukraine as we start 2024 and it was a very powerful reminder of the ongoing situation now. We know this from our Ukrainian friends too and I was moved to write this poem.
For Ukraine
Each year calls us
to honour its passing, a kiss
a hug with love
to whisper it’s gone.
But for you ,yes the year
has gone.
But not the cruelty of bombardment
of homes shaken every night.
Of nights hidden in bathrooms
cold with fear-and chilled hidden underground
and the ennui due to a life
on hold, blind to future hopes.
Here, we switch off the news.
Your lives in Ukraine diminished for now,
by Gaza’s devastation.
Are you tired we ask?
Our fickleness wants to project
a more palatable scene.
But your reality is of pain,
of loss, of terror night after night.
Scattered you face lives, stateless,
And ambivalent futures.
At home fear is a drone, a letter or the hand on the shoulder-
the call to fight.
But that’s NOT all-
you see the love
of communities, of neighbours
of families where ever you have landed.
Because love is not rationed.
Hearts swell with empathy
and compassion and so
we stand with Ukraine
Slava Ukrani!
